


Delusions of Darkness

by Larkawolfgirl



Series: Works I am Particularly Proud of [4]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Agony, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Era, Darkness, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, M/M, Molestation, Open to Interpretation, Pain, Painful Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-cest, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 06:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3109958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larkawolfgirl/pseuds/Larkawolfgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ventus sleeps, but not peacefully. Vanitas lives within his dreams. It doesn’t matter if he’s real or not, because when all you know is sleep, nightmares are just as alive as waking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delusions of Darkness

Even in his broken state Ventus was aware when the sense of motion ceased. At first, the bright white light was blinding even to his closed eyelids, but as time wore on it faded into the enclosing darkness that accompanies sleep. But even though his body slept, his mind did not.

He thought back to the strange other part of himself and the pained eyes he had seen that final moment. He wished that there had been something he could have done for him. Eradication had never been his desire. All he wanted was to live a peaceful life. What had become of this other self? They had been one-in-body had they not? Though his shape had dissolved into thousands of pieces, had he really been evaporated into the nothingness? Was that why he himself was now broken? Had he lost a piece of his being, a part of himself which he needed to go on living?

 _ ~~Speak~~_   _Think_   _of the Devil and he shall appear_ echoed through his mind as his personal Devil’s voice emerged from the shadows. “You called?” The voice rubbed him as if it was made from phantom limbs. Burning hot sensation trailed over skin that he could see within his mind’s eye, but in reality could not be there. The limbs continued to rub him, flowing strands of darkness enveloping him, and the heat intensified to a hellish temperature. Somehow amongst the sensations he could still sense his real form, a form that he could not see, laying ever unchanging in a chrysalis state.

“Well, Ventus? Are you happy now?”

Ventus wanted to respond—he tried to respond—but the heat was too intense, the delusion too shocking. And it was a delusion, right? It had to be. Vanitas was gone; _he_  was asleep. But it was so  _real_. He knew his eyes were closed, but he could see the silhouette of Vanitas clearly, his eyes golden fire. His face coming closer, and closer.

“What’s wrong Ventus?  _Darkness_ got your tongue?” He cackled, brushing fingertips against  _illusionary?_ cheeks. Vanitas met no resistance as he joined their lips roughly. A tongue that felt so  _real_ as it devoured his mouth. He shivered (or was it only in his mind? It was becoming more difficult to tell the difference).  

“Good, you won’t complain this way.” Ventus simply lay there allowing Vantias to do as he wished. Darkness enveloped his skin snaking around intimate places causing him to gasp as heat from within his body joined the heat already scorching him from the outside. Pain and pleasure mixed to the point where Ventus could no longer separate them. Instead, he felt nothing besides sensation so intense that he felt ready to explode at any moment. But he never did. The molestation continued on and on until he couldn’t seem to remember how it had begun, yet still his release never came. On and on he was filled with darkness to the brim of every crevice of his body.

Vanitas’ voice drowned out all thoughts so that all that remained was Vanitas. Vanitas’ voice, sexy and sensual, but frightening. Vanitas’ touch, burning and bruising, but euphoric. Vanitas’ tongue, wet and comforting, but acidic.

Then, as quickly as sensation had filled him, it fizzled away as if it had all been his imagination. And perhaps it had been. Gone were all traces of Vanitas’ visit. Sight had abandoned him, leaving him alone with intruding darkness, the only indication that it might have been real. Yet, darkness might have just as easily been the result of someone finally shutting off the blinding white light. Perhaps they had intended to help him sleep better.

This respite should have been relaxing, yet he could not stop thinking of Vanitas. He missed the touches, the sense of life. Perhaps he missed him because he was a part of himself, but perhaps he was just a whore who enjoyed pleasure. Either way, he could no longer handle the loneliness. Here in this place he was truly alone, left to the mercy of whatever chose to stumble upon him, if anything did at all. And that was what drove him insane, the thought that this would be his existence for eternity, to lie alone (in light or dark it didn’t matter), plagued by his thoughts. Memories of times lost, never to return. Regrets of things that might have been. He realized that Vanitas had been a distraction from these things, and he wanted it back.

“Aww, did little Ven miss me?” a voice hissed with malice right against his ear causing him to shiver.

Ventus still couldn’t speak, but Vanitas understood what he wanted, giving him touch freely, yet the touch was different than before. When before pain and pleasure had danced together cycling back and forth, now touches brought nothing but agony. Each caress felt as if a knife were cutting into him, and he couldn’t tell if the warm trickle which followed each cut was imagined or not.

He wanted to cry out, to plead for it to end. Finally, it reached the point where he would rather give up his life if only the torture would end, but sound never came. It was as if his very ability of speech had been sucked out of him by the darkness. Full panic set in. What if he were never able to speak again, even if he did manage to awaken? Could he awaken? Was he even still sleeping? Had Vanitas somehow managed to steal him away?

Pain built upon pain for what felt like an eternity. Then, just as he had vanished the first time, he did again. Yet again Ventus was alone with only his thoughts for company. Was this his fate? To sleep forever, longing for a pleasure that could never satisfy and hurting from a pain that would never kill?

And as if his own thoughts had brought the events about, this was what occurred. Again and again, Vanitas visited him, alternating between bringing pleasure and pain, his face contorting ever more in satisfaction as Ventus’ desperation grew. Ventus feared the darkness more than ever before. He didn’t know when Vanitas would return, and so he fretted every moment. On he slept, but he felt no rest. Vanitas lived within his dreams and it didn’t matter if he was real or not, because when all you know is sleep, nightmares are just as alive as waking.


End file.
